


wanna bet?

by YaBoyTwoHats



Series: Reinvent Love [11]
Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: 5 Times, 5+1 Things, Bets & Wagers, Coming Out, First Kiss, Fluff, Gay!Ryan, Getting Together, Lapdance, M/M, Pan!Brendon, Sharing a Bed, Sick Character, Sickfic, with a bit of clothed porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 17:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15778509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaBoyTwoHats/pseuds/YaBoyTwoHats
Summary: also known as- the reason I haven't posted for like two weeksFive bets that brought Brendon and Ryan closer and one that brought them together.





	wanna bet?

The first bet was simple. Ryan, in need of quick, easy cash, went to Spencer. 

"What for," Spencer had asked suspiciously. The wavering grin on Ryan's face gave him away and he began spluttering.

"Well, you know, I'm a guitarist. And a lyricist, I suppose, but this is about, uh, guitars. See, there's this, ahem, guitar-"

Spencer snorted and shut the conversation down with a short and to the point, "Not a chance."

So Ryan didn't have money and, other than Spencer, had no foolproof way of getting access to it. Then he saw Brendon awkwardly trying to dig a Monster Energy out of the fridge. Brendon didn't drink those, but Ryan did excessively, and the fact that Brendon was getting it for him made his head spin. Brendon was the best thing, other than Spencer, that had ever happened to him. He loved him and all of the feelings he held for Brendon weren't entirely platonic.

"Brendon, hey, c'mere. I have a proposition for you." Out of context this could have sounded like Ryan was asking to pay for Brandon's body, but he didn't really think about the implications of his words. He was already about to seduce Brendon anyway. Brendon shuffled towards him with waddling footsteps.

" Yeah, Ryan. What's up? Got you this, by the way," the younger man rushed, holding out the orange energy drink for Ryan to take it. He refused it for the time being.

"Ah, thank you, Brendon. I just wanted to make a bet with you. Does that sound okay?" Brendon, looking rather skeptical, nodded. "You can choose if you want to accept after. I know you will though. It's easy. I bet you that I can hold the world in my hands." Brendon snorted.

"I'll bet you a hundred bucks that you can't." Ryan nodded. It was a fair wager. Too bad Brendon was about to lose. Had he known what Ryan was planning, he probably would have bet for him. 

Still, Ryan crowded Brendon. The singer looked slightly alarmed as Ryan's hands inched closer and closer to his throat, but relaxed when Ryan only cupped his chin against his palms.

"I win," he whispered, Brendon's head in his hands and eyes looking up at him in adoration and annoyance. He'd been outsmarted. At the same time though, he didn't seem to mind. His expression was that of euphoria. Suddenly, looking at the man with his head literally in his hands, Ryan didn't feel like asking Brendon for money. 

Brendon fumbled with his hands and began drawing out his wallet but Ryan stopped him. 

"No," he decided. That was too easy, and he felt bad for tricking him. "Don't pay me. Just, uh," he paused, moving his hands from Brendon's cheeks and resting them on his waist. They were closer than they had been when Ryan was cupping his jaw. Brendon stood straighter and their noses brushed. Ryan could easily make out each and every eyelash decorating Brendon's lids. "Yeah." His irises stood out against the stark white of the rest of his eyes. The swirls were deep brown like his hair, beautiful like him. Then Brendon breathed out and Ryan's gaze dropped to his lips. God, his lips. He bit them so often that they were cracked all over the bottom. His lips were disproportionate too, the bottom one slightly larger than the top in a way that made his pouty face look more adorable than it should. That being said, Brendon was always too cute for his own good.

"Yeah," Bren echoed finally. Ryan's grip slackened and Brendon pushed the ice cold drink into Ryan's hand. With a firm look, Brendon walked past Ryan and settled in his own bunk.

-

The second bet wasn't a trick, but it was just as misleading. Neither one brought up money so it became evident that betting was just for fun. While it was misleading, it did, however, make Ryan feel a bit better about himself after tricking Brendon for the last bet. Ryan had been feeling feverish for a number of days beforehand, and that night getting was increasingly harder to withstand. Even with the warmth of the sunshine that had been beating down on his cozy bunk up until an hour or so ago, his bunk curtain drawn to keep in the warmth, and at least three blankets smothering him, he was still cold. So, doing the sensible thing, he knocked on the bunk above him until a voice responded.

"Shit, Ryan, what?" His voice was gravelly, low from having just woken up. Ryan zoned out for a second and listened to Brendon's voice, only snapping out of it when Brendon chided him. "Ry, hello?"

Ryan prepared himself to sound as pathetic as possible and complained, "I'm freezing." Brendon let out a light chuckle.

"Of course you are." Ryan heard the bunk above him creak and two feet land lightly next to his bed. When Ryan pulled the curtain he was met with a radiant smile and two blankets. "These are mine," Brendon told him, setting the darker blanket on first. Even after Brendon finished with the blankets, Ryan was still freezing.

"I'm still cold, Bren."

"I bet," Brendon said suddenly, "that I could make you warm."

"But there are no blankets, B-den."

"I know." Brendon pulled back the covers, leading Ryan to hiss and rub his limbs together. The singer took this in his stride and soon Ryan felt another body next to him, one that was simply radiating heat. Ryan grabbed for Brendon, pressing their bodies flush against each other and accidentally grinding himself against his best friend. Brendon let out a little moan but Ryan disregarded it, just wrapped his arms around Brendon's middle and cuddled him. Only after Brendon had passed out in his arms, breath hot against his chest doused in cold sweat, did Ryan realize that he wasn't chilly anymore.

He was burning up. He supposed that was an improvement from almost getting hypothermia. Brendon snuggled against him and Ryan let it happen until his nose was pressed into Brendon's hair. He kissed Brendon's forehead and the sleeping boy let out a contented noise. Maybe something nice happened in a dream.

Just as Ryan finally found sleep overtaking him he whispered, "You win," and closed his eyes.

When they woke up tangled together in the morning, Brendon had a fever too.

-

The third bet made even less sense. It wasn’t even that much of a bed. Ryan had wanted to come out as gay for a while, only now certain that if he did Brendon wouldn’t immediately figure out that Ryan had a crush on him.  
Ryan and Brendon were leaning against the back of the tour bus when he did it. Their shoulders bumped when Brendon bummed a cigarette off of Ryan, fingers brushing during the exchange. A blush spread across Ryan’s cheeks. Brendon noticed and decided it was because of him rather than the lack of sunshine and the temperature of fewer than twenty degrees.

"You’re adorable,” Brendon admitted. He wrapped an arm around Ryan and pecked him on the cheek. It was flirty enough for Ryan to decide that he couldn’t keep lying to Brendon. He had to tell the truth or Brendon would keep accidentally feeding Ryan’s fantasy.

“Brendon,” Ryan started. “I gotta say something.” His words seemed to form as he said them and Brendon looked at him with curiosity in his eyes. “I bet I’m more flexible than you.”

Brendon’s eyebrows raised. Ryan was a total liar if he actually thought that. Even Ryan knew so. Ryan was awfully stiff compared to Brendon, breaking his back night after night during shows and getting lap dances from Dream Rockwell, Ryan’s former makeup artist before he taught himself. Brendon would dance across the stage like an angel. No, not like one. He was an angel.

“No fuckin’ way, Ross. You’re like a fucking board. You barely move, Ryro.”

“Yeah okay, well, prove that you can be flexible,” Ryan spluttered. Until Brendon suggested Ryan rest his luck, he was in the clear. Brendon stepped back from the tour bus, looking Ryan dead in the eyes and readying himself. He shifted his footing, throwing down his cigarette and stomping it out.

“You ready for this,” Brendon dared. He cocked his hips, thrusting them in Ryan’s direction and Ryan tried to ignore his crotch standing out against thin jeans. Brendon threw his arms down to his side, leaned back, and did a backflip. Alright, well Ryan had made a bad decision in betting that. “Your turn.”

Ryan closed his eyes, the pressure almost painful. He opened them and blinked rapidly, figured out what to say. He needed to come out, even if the idea he chose to was stupid. And rest assured, his choice was idiotic.

“I’m gay. And that’s like, the opposite of straight. And when you’re stiff you’re straight. And, uh, I’m gay. I win.” Brendon looked at Ryan in surprise and Ryan realized he’d just made a huge mistake. The boy had been raised with a Mormon belief system! Why would he accept Ryan if Ryan was an abomination?

“I’m so proud of you!” Oh. “I- I’m pan. Sexual. I’m pansexual. So, don’t be worried about me not accepting you. I’ll always love you, Ryan.”

“Y-yeah. You too, B.” Brendon walked back over to the bus and Ryan let the younger man put his arm around him.

“So, I don’t think that counts. Cause I like guys too, but I can also do a backflip.

“Tie?”

Brendon smiled.

“Yeah, a tie.”

-

The fourth bet was one that shouldn't have even involved him. Ryan had recently indulged Spencer on a secret he thought was well hidden. Spencer informed him otherwise.

"Dude, I know. J does too. It's obvious that you like Brendon. If Brendon weren't a flirty little shit, he'd know that not everyone flirts as a joke and you actually do have feelings for him, but you're lucky. Because he's dumb. Jon and I are not." Ryan was, understandably, a little dumbfounded. However, it didn't get in the way of his relationships with Spencer and Jon because they already knew and didn't care, so he didn't think anything of their new knowledge.

That was until the fourth bet.

"Hey, Brendon," Spencer called after the older man as they strode off the stage, foreheads dripping with sweat that they were wiping off onto the sleeves of their fanciful jackets. The drummer sped up a bit to catch up with the singer, leaving Jon and Ryan in his wake. Jon smirked at Ryan, trying to clue him into something Ryan had no way of understanding.

"What's up, Spencer? Trying to steal the first shower from me?" Brendon and Spencer always fought for the first shower. There were always two, and Jon and Ryan had already come to an agreement that they would alternate so that every other venue, they'd get to shower afterward first. Spencer laughed, and Ryan smiled to himself because he always loved the way Spencer looked when he was happy. When Spencer smiled, he grinned, and not a half-assed grin either. He smiled with his eyes and his teeth so vibrantly that when either aspect dimmed it was a giveaway that Spencer was faking it.

"Sweaty, you already know that would've been mine. But I'll give you a chance. I bet I give a better lap dance than you. If you do better, you get the first shower. You get lap dances every night. Can't be too hard to give."

Brendon slung an arm out to stop Spencer and Ryan was so preoccupied with staring at him that he didn't realize Jon had done the same to him until he felt an arm against his midsection.

"What," Ryan whispered, still entranced, his eyes wandering between Spencer and Brendon.

"Get a chair," Jon muttered through gritted teeth. As Ryan walked away he heard Jon say, "I swear to god, if Ryan gets a lap dance from Spencer before I do..." Ryan tried to ignore it.

He finally found a fold-up chair in the corner of the backstage area he hadn't seen before. When he brought it back, Spencer and Jon were grinning and while it wasn't fake, it certainly wasn't pure. Ryan set the chair up and motioned to it.

"So, who's going?" Spencer scoffed.

"Get in the chair, Ryan." Him? No way. He couldn't get a lap dance from a man he'd known since they were still obsessed with turtles turned superheroes; not that that obsession had actually changed. Ryan certainly couldn't let Brendon do that to him, not with Brendon being unaware of Ryan's feelings for him. 

"I can't. Not with Spence."

"Fine. I'll do mine to Jon. You two decide who's better." Brendon would be, obviously, but Ryan couldn't tell Spencer that.

"Why doesn't Brendon give Jon a lap dance too instead of-"

Spencer interrupted him with a growl of something that sounded like, "Because Jon is mine."

Never before had Jon sprinted so fast after a show, muttering this time around about finding another goddamn chair. Spencer took that opportunity- Ryan was spacing out- to push him into the chair. Jon arrived with his chair mere moments later, but Spencer didn't let him sit down.

"Nah. Brendon goes first." Judging by the cocky smile on Brendon's exhausted face, the singer was fine with that. He used his left hand to reach out to Ryan, pushing Ryan back in his chair until he felt the metal against his back.

"You ready for the experience of a lifetime," Brendon joked, rolling his hips teasingly and leaning closer towards him. Ryan tried to scoff but it came out as more of a whine of need. Spencer mimicked Ryan but was able to succeed in making fun of him.

Slowly, Brendon circled the chair, biting his lip and licking it afterward, trailing a few fingers up his abdomen, anything to peak Ryan's interest and keep his attention.

As if Ryan wasn't already hooked on him before the notion of Brendon nearly getting him off was on the table. Then again, considering he was getting hard in his thankfully loose pants already (Ryan had a habit of getting boners onstage, so the pants were a precaution), it was unlikely that he wouldn't come as soon as Brendon so much as thought about touching him. 

Evidently, Brendon had already thought about it because as Ryan craned his neck to follow Brendon with his eyes, he didn't notice the fingers inching closer to his back until he felt them. Soon his dick would be hard enough that it would ache. 

Brendon faced Ryan again in a matter of seconds, using one knee to push Ryan's legs apart. It exposed him more than he'd like to admit, but Brendon kept going, so either he hadn't noticed his boner or was taking it in his stride. Ryan knew the answer but decided to keep his preference for the latter hidden. Instead, he let Brendon twine one hand through his ever growing fringe and lay another hand on his shoulder. Ryan's eyeliner caked eyes widened and his eyebrows rose against his colorful forehead, both reactions of when Brendon eased himself closer. Brendon's crotch was inching closer and closer to Ryan's reddening face and it was starting to cause a reaction in his pants too. They bunched up around his bulge and Ryan looked pleadingly at Spencer and Jon, both of whom only laughed when they looked down at his groin. Brendon ignored them.

"You're excited," Brendon pointed out, lowering one hand and pressing a finger to Ryan's erection. Ryan wriggled and blushed, face probably slick with sweat again from embarrassment. "Don't worry. I am too," the younger man confided. He pressed a hand to his own crotch, and it was only then that Ryan noticed the pants Brendon was wearing were so much tighter than they had been before.

Ryan reached out, wanting to grab Brendon by the collar and pull him closer. Brendon slapped his hand away but indulged him in another way. He used the same offending hand to unbutton his shirt, allowing Ryan to gaze at a strip of Brendon's sweat-drenched, glistening chest. God, he smelled good too. The grime and sweat of the show was similar to the feeling of being well fucked and that smell usually made him up for a second round.

Brendon stopped touching him and pulled his clothing off, only leaving the bottom half of his body safe. Only then did Brendon stop facing him, sitting down and wrapping an arm around Ryan's neck so his chin rested on Brendon's shoulder and his face was dangerously close to Brendon's muscles. They weren't usually very pronounced, but with Brendon's chest so close it was hard to not notice them. 

"Brendon," he whined. Ryan felt Brendon's ass right against his cock but he refused to let himself grind. Brendon grabbed Ryan's hand and pressed it hard against his midsection. Brendon's skin was as hot as his hand.

"Ryan," the other man mimicked, rubbing himself against Ryan and turning to kiss him lightly on the cheek. He twisted and turned to face Ryan, legs now wrapping themselves around the back of the chair Ryan was sitting in. It turned dirty as Brendon leaned back, letting his arms hit the floor so his only connection to Ryan was his ass in his lap. Ryan saw Spencer smirk again and he was nearly certain that Brendon had done something. Then Brendon was surging back up, grinding down hard against Ryan and latching his mouth to his neck, biting tenderly and licking at the imprints. And Ryan, well, Ryan was crying out, coming in his pants without Brendon having even touched him. 

Brendon smiled and pulled back, pressing a hand against his own crotch to hide- holy shit- to hide the wet spot coming to the surface of the fabric. He had come too.

"Welp." Every eye drew to Spencer. "I'm not sure if I can top that," he ventured. "You win, I forfeit." Jon let out a long groan, forcing everyone's gaze to his now shameful face.

"Sorry I just..." he trailed off. It was obvious he was disappointed that Spencer wouldn't be dancing on him. 

"Don't worry, sugar. You'll still get some action. What if I met you in the shower?" Jon's eyes lit up. 

"Ryan," Jon said hurriedly. "You take the first shower. You don't want to be in there after I'm done with him."

Ryan ran off, Brendon at his heels because Jon and Spencer had immediately launched at each other with a combination of smacking lips and hungry growls. Only when Brendon and Ryan had faced opposite directions to strip out of their equally soiled pants and turned on the water spray would the other two's moans be drowned out.

Despite how loud Jon and Spencer's were, they'd never compare to Brendon's.

-

The fifth bet was probably Ryan's favorite. It was late at night, not even a month after he and Brendon had gotten each other off without breaking the clothing barrier. Well, aside from Brendon's shirt. Spencer and Jon were asleep in Jon's bunk, having gotten together after the fourth bet. Both men would mention the bet often as some cruel reminder of what Ryan could have had. Ryan had literally prayed for love in a lap dance and it didn't pay off. He and Brendon were still close but Ryan couldn't get that something more out of his head.

So, when Brendon supplied a bet that could easily be interpreted as suggestive, there was no way Ryan could refuse. It ended up that the bet wasn't as dirty as he thought, but Ryan enjoyed it nonetheless.

"Ryan, Ryro, Ross! I have a bet for you!"

Ryan's head snapped up in interest, away from the enticing words of Edgar Allen Poe's interpretations of madness and love. It hit the top of his bunk shed he cried out in pain, dropping the poetry collection and trying to memorize the page number of 'Annabel Lee' when the book slammed shut. His now empty right hand flew to his head, rubbing lightly against the aching back of his head.

"You do, ...do you?" He stretched himself out, grunting when his head hit the wall.

"Awh, you okay?" Brendon's smile teased him but the dim light that showcased Brendon's eyes showed he cared. His eyes were soft, the opposite of his taunting grin. The eyes were the "windows to the soul" or whatever.

"Yeah," Ryan told him, still running his fingers against the newly bruised flesh. He dropped his gaze to his closed book, giving it a glare as if his injury was the author's fault. It was shoved to the side with his free hand.

"What's the bet?" Brendon sat down next to Ryan on the bed, back against Ryan's left shoulder.

"Wouldn't you like to know," Brendon flirted. No shit, he would.

"Obviously, Bren."

"Sorry, sorry. Love you, Ry." Ryan sighed.

"I love you too. Now, what's the bet." Brendon turned, yawned, and carefully wove an arm around and against Ryan's shoulder.

"So, that show was exhausting right?" Ryan thought for a moment. It wasn't a bad night- the fans were always enthused even if they looked physically ill. He hadn't screwed up once, not that he usually did. And he hadn't moved around the stage much; Brendon had recently started coming to him for their famed microphone share towards the end of Sins. So, no. It wasn't particularly exhausting. But he'd humor Brendon.

"Yeah, I suppose. You're probably more tired though. I for one could stay up reading for a good while longer. You?" Brendon shrugged.

"That is kind of the point though. See, I bet that I can stay up later than you. The concert may not have been as bad for you, but you're doing boring stuff like reading and you usually get up around six, so you've been up longer."

"You're not making this seem very winnable for me, you know." Brendon smiled.

"The challenge is what makes it more fun. What do you say?" Ryan rolled his eyes. Brendon was definitely going to lose. He had yawned not four minutes ago.

"Sure. Lie down with me. That way we know who sleeps first." It was then he realized that Brendon had already settled under his blanket. Ryan snuggled against Brendon, grabbing his book again and finding his page again. Still, he was too preoccupied with Brendon's presence that the words went in and out of his head. When he looked to Brendon, he found the other man silently reading over his shoulder in the same way Ryan was. Brendon immediately faced him, cheeks a rosy color in the yellowish light. His eyes twinkled and all Ryan wanted to do was climb on top of him, brush the hair out of his eyes and kiss him until neither of them could breathe in anything but each other. 

Instead of almost certainly assaulting Brendon, he just pressed against him and slid his book closer. Brendon smiled in thanks and rested his head on Ryan's shoulder. They sat in peace, the only noise their rhythmic breaths and Ryan would wait for a few moments before turning the page to make sure Brendon was caught up on the poem they were reading.

Soon Brendon's breaths slowed and he slumped against Ryan, proof that he'd fallen asleep first. Ryan grabbed his sidekick and snapped a photo for morning proof, then slumped into Brendon and pulled the bunk curtain. In the complete darkness, Ryan fell asleep to the sound of Brendon breathing.

-  
\+ 1  
It was a week after Brendon and Ryan had quote-unquote "slept together" and they were closer than ever before. Brendon took to slipping into Ryan's bed on a nightly basis, not that Ryan was complaining. He never slept with a shirt on, but then again, neither did Brendon, and it was something neither spoke on but both were comfortable with. Somehow, despite falling asleep apart, they'd wake up in each other's arms time and time again in the morning.

That new closeness was what brought them together late at night after a show Ryan had been injured during. An obsessed fan had jumped to the stage, unable to reach Ryan but slamming hard against the mic stand, busting Ryan's lip as the metal rammed against his face. It ripped apart the sensitive flesh there, but after consulting Zack and WebMD, they found that if they just medicated the wounds daily and Ryan didn't overexert his lips (if that were even possible), his mouth wouldn't even need stitches.

"Brendon," Ryan whined quietly, lips hardly parted and hands clutching his chin. Oh, yeah, his face had gotten bruised in a few places too by the neck of his guitar. Brendon looked at Ryan and replaced one of Ryan's hands with his own.

"Baby, what can I do?" Ryan slumped back, expression one of uncomfortable disappointment.

"There isn't anything, Bren. It hurts." He grunted when the pad of Brendon's index finger brushed a bruise. Sure, his lips were in pain too, more extreme than the bruises caused, but considering that, at that moment, his lips could not exist without agony, Ryan had taught himself to ignore that one instance of pain.

"How 'bout a bet," Brendon halfheartedly ventured. This, however, lit Ryan's face up and forced him up on his elbows.

"What type of bet?" Brendon's face wasn't riddled with guilt like usual. In fact, Brendon looked more innocent than Ryan had ever seen him before.

"I was thinking a bet that I could make you feel better." Well, if Brendon thought he could help, who was Ryan to stop him? "Have you ever heard of, uh," Brendon started to lean over, tipping Ryan's head towards the ceiling, "kissing," and pressing his soft lips against a bruise. With his only responses being an intake of breath and a crooked smile, Brendon continued. "It better?" Another kiss brushed across his jaw, then his cheek, then the tip of his nose. Ryan opened his eyes, only then realizing he'd clenched them shut. Brendon's lips were inches apart from his.

"Yeah," Ryan told him, "but you're not doing it properly." Ryan crushed their mouths together, but he supposed it wasn't as destructive as it felt because his lips were raw compared to Brendon's. Brendon kissed back with about half as much force, knowing Ryan had overstepped his own boundaries and probably hurt himself.

"No," Brendon said as they broke apart. "Later, but not now. We'll kiss again when you're better."

Ryan had never healed from an injury so fast.


End file.
